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Pawsome weekend

This has been a pawsome weekend for me. It started late last week when Pop picked me up for the first time since he broke his elbow about 6 weeks ago. It felt so good to be held in his arms, I wanted to purr. Then my peep's team, the NY Yankees, won 2 out of 3 against the Cubbies, so I got kitty crack to celebrate. SCORE!

@LttleCrow painted according
to a vision Crazy Horse had.
Caturday was the monthly PawPawty. I had my usual 8pm DJ shift. The theme was either The Wild West, Cowboys and Anipals, or Cowboys and Indians, depending on who I axed. Since I objected to the word Indians referring to Native Americans, I decided to do a set of the music my furrend Little Crow (@LttleCrow) had introduced me to recently. His Dad is a musician and I've been trying to get him to co-DJ with me but we just haven't gotten it together. He did offer to give me suggestions of songs to play, which he did. When I saw his avatar, I knew I had to beg him to paint my face too. I think the work his Dad did was pretty pawsome and by the compliments I received at the pawty, you all agreed with me. My absolute favorite part of the av is the feather earring. On the sidebar, you can click on some wonderful music.

My face paint represents the colors of the medicine wheel.
 It's used for dancing and ceremony.
To add to the pawsomeness of the weekend, I won, not one, but TWO prizes! I won a gift from @Laineyspawtique and one from Henryandfriends. I'm not sure what these prizes are but know I'll thoroughly enjoy them. Lainey's kitty cookies look nommy. Then, as if this pawty couldn't get any better, my homey @MaggieTKat of Kruse Cats, won a Furminator and gave it to me!! Guess she felt guilty for dancing with my mancat, BuzzLucas, AND grabbing his bum. GASP! I thank Maggie and her Mom for their generosity. All is certainly forgiven. I can't wait to see if that Furminator will lop some of TW's fingers off. HAH! I was overwhelmed cos in the hood where I grew up, people were more apt to cut you up than be kind.

I was still excited over my windfall of prizes when TW came up with the mail on Monday. She told me I had a card. When she opened it, her face got all wet and the tears wouldn't stop. One of my furrends, who I already thanked personally, sent me a Nip & Bones gift card. It's not my birthday, but they did it as an act of kindness. You know who you are and we cannot thank you enough. I'm planning my shopping spree as I writing this.

I DO want to address one more thing on my blog. TW is getting entirely too friendly with my furrend's humans. This is NOT GOOD. They talk about US. Soon TW is going to start comparing me: Why can't you be more like [this kitteh or that kitteh] and sit on my lap. OMC! This is just wrong. I'm the only one who should be dishing to my furrends.

I've Been Railroaded!

CK needs a mouthpiece and she needs one pronto. I got a timeout! Can y'all believe that? Me? Ms.-I'd-never-hurt-a-flea! This little cat from the hood knows her rights and will fight this until the Supurreme Court!

CK in the "tunnel of pain"
The events that led up to the "timeout" started Caturday. TW had her hand stuck in the "tunnel of pain"—in my opinion that's looking for trouble—and suddenly the tunnel lived up to it's name. When TW took her hand out, there was a 2-inch slit on her wrist that was bleeding pretty good. It looked like someone took a blade to it. She looked at me like I was guilty without benefit of a trial. I said Woman, you don't have anything on me. It's wasn't me. Did you see anything in that dark tunnel? I don't think so. Sometimes, TW forgets that in American, everyone is innocent until proven guilty.

Cut to yesterday. I was having a friendly game of attack the string with TW; and, before you know it, she was holding that same wrist and excusing me of biting her in almost the same place she'd been scratched. Wasn't me! I defended myself. There are 3 other cats on the bed and any one of them could be the guilty party. She said the other cats were stuffies and couldn't just get up and jump her on their own. None of this made any sense to me. If the cats weren't alive, what the Sam Hill were they doing in the house? With so many shelter cats needing homes, why was our house filled with zombie cats?

Do you know what TW did next? She gave me a timeout! She shut the door to the bedroom and went out for a couple of hours, maybe even a couple of days. I was in there with no food and 3 potentially dangerous stuffies. I had water and a litter box but NO FOOD! Can you hear me! NO FOOD! FOR DAYS! Oh sorry, I think I became hysterical in my tiny jail cell. [EDITOR'S NOTE: She was in there for about 20 minutes and I let her out before I went shopping. That tiny "jail cell" was about 200 sq ft., which is larger than some NYC apartments.] [CK's NOTE: Don't try to change history, woman. These cats know I'm in a bad situation unless my Pop is home.]

I hope you can tell us apart better than TW.
Many readers know I have a doppelgänger who goes by the name of Herñia Hernandez Gutierrez, AKA HHGutt, who's no good—plain and simple. This Mexican—yeah, it says right on his tag "Heche en Mexico"—has done me wrong before.  He'd stop at nothing to get me in trouble; but TW thinks he's Saint Guadalupe or something. I don't even think he's in this country legally. I'll have to check on it.  At her age, I'm sure all TW saw was a gray blur and immediately blamed me. You can see from the photo how someone HER age could make that mistake.

My furrend Boris Kitty, also has a doppelgänger, named Edgar, who goes to events that he's too busy to attend. I'll have to ax him if Edgar gets him in all sorts of trouble too. Frankly, if HHGutt ever went to, say BlogsPaw, and pretended to be me, I'd rip all his stitches out. I'd mail him to Busy Buttons and let her have her way with him.

Now what would give TW the idea that sweet, lovable CK has the capacity for violence?
She's on the mend and back home with her family. Hopefully, she's regained her ability to use the litter box and will have minimal lasting affects from her ordeal.

Admiral Hestrob is one of my most loyal readers and furrends. Her Mom had an accident and broke her wrist and hurt her knee. Why am I telling you this? Because the Admiral's Mom won't be able to type up the blogs and tweets the Admiral dictates to her. We'll all miss her wonderful comments on our blogs, as well. You can read more about her accident on Mario's Meowsings. Please keep her in your purrayers and send good thoughts to the Admiral via Twitter.

Monday Musings

Don't you just love wash day? The peeps take their clean sheets out of the dryer. They are so nice and warm. Then before they can fold them to put them away, you're laying there, doing your own washing.

But they have to spoil the moment by taking out the flashy box, so you try to shield your sensitive eyes:

You know you're not gonna get me off these clean sheets, woman, so don't even try it.

Bunny Jean Cook—A Tribute

In happier times MizzBassie, me, BJC, Pandafur, Javathecat
This morning I lost a wonderful furrend—as did all of you—when Bunny Jean Cook went over the Rainbow Bridge. I feel a bit guilty now that my words of condolence to her Mom, Vicki Cook, all concerned DJing. Bunny Jean was so much more than an outstanding DJ. She was smart; her outfits always turned heads at pawpawties because she looked so darn good. More than any of that, we should remember her for the caring rabbit she was and all the good she did. She always alerted us by way of her blog or a tweet when some animal was being abused or when we could do something to stop animal cruelty or make some anipal's life better. Through her Mom's words, she was a  tireless fundraiser, who we all loved. When your life has touched so many people, you know it was a meaningful life and surely not in vain. So I decided to honor Chocolate Chip, aka BJC, through song. It's not the best rhyming song but it's the thought that counts.  Sung to the tune of Joe Hill, may I present Bunny Jean.

I dreamed I saw Bunny Jean tonight
Alive as you or me
Says I, "But Bunny, you went over the Bridge,"
"I never died," says she.
"I never died," says she.

Hopping there as big as life
And smiling with her eyes
Says BJC, "I'm always here
When Twitter anipals want to organize,
To help anipals organize."

"BJ ain't dead, she says to me,
"BJ ain't never died.
When shelter pets need a forever home
Bunny Jean is at their side,
Bunny Jean is at their side."

For raising money for homeless hares
For blogs that make us aware
And standing near her is her loving Mom
Vicki and Bunny truly care
 Vicki and Bunny are always there 

From San Diego to Pittsburgh, PA,
In kill shelters and puppy mills—
Where animals don't have a voice
It's there you'll find Bunny Jean.
It's there you'll find Bunny Jean.

I dreamed I saw BJ Cook tonight,
Alive as you or me
Says I, "But Bunny, you went over the Bridge,"
"I never died," says she.
"I never died," says she. 
A stunning @BunnyJeanCook used by permission of @vscook